Kore
by LibraMoon
Summary: Sweden is the God of the Underworld, America is Persephone. A retelling of a classic myth, does not stay fully true to said myth. Rated M for second chapter which will be published soon. SwedenxFemAmerica! Mentions past SwedenxFinland.
1. Chapter 1

_**Thank you my lovely reviewers! This is a request for a loyal fan. The rape of Persephone as told between SwedenxAmerica. It is not true to the original myths. I want to be clear about that!**_

_**I made Sweden akin to the Grecian and Roman gods (who mostly went both ways, depending on the myth). **_

_**Sweden-Hades**_

_**America-Persephone**_

_**Denmark-Apollo**_

_**Iceland-Zeus**_

_**Norway-Poseidon**_

_**Canada-Demeter**_

_**Enjoy!**_

_**Rated M. I own nothing. **_

OoOoOo

The God of the Underworld had fallen in love, secretly, with the Goddess of Spring.

In some aspects it was inevitable.

She'd reminded him far too much of his first wife. The Finnish demigod that had stolen his breath away one fateful day as Sweden claimed the soul of a warlord. At first the demigod had been screaming for assistance as well. In time, Sweden had wooed him enough to accept the touch of a Dead God. However, even after years in the underworld, his lovely 'wife' had tried to escape him.

Until, he had finally proven successful. Sweden had tracked him down to the ends of the Earth. Unfortunately, his wife had been able to plead with the God of the sea to keep him from Sweden's grasp. Sweden had, in return, cursed the seas to drown those that went upon the waters more than they would carry them to safety. He refused to accept any that died in the seas to the afterlife.

Norway had been upset, yet his fury paled in comparison to Sweden's.

His rage had been justified, and only mounted with each day that his wife was kept from him. Sweden soon refused to take the dead back with him. He left their souls to wander and disturb the living mortals.

However, he had not anticipated that the other Gods would defy him. He was a cold and cruel god when he wished to be, and without the light his wife provided, he was far more dangerous than he ever had been before.

The fires that gave no warmth crackled about his darkened throne. The black marble offered nothing but he continued coldness of his realm. His little wife had been distraught with his kingdom. Often, the Finnish male had begged Sweden to take him back to the surface.

However, Sweden could not bear the pain of being parted from his darling bride. And, because he refused the demigod time and time again, the male had fled. Now, he was reduced to gazing in the orbs that watched mortal lives. The Finnish male rested in the sea, a citizen of the Sea God Norway and afforded all the protections such a position offered. It was unfair, but the pantheon was against him taking back what was his by rights.

His cold blue eyes, a mockery of the brightness of the sky, watched the world with dispassion. If he was to suffer, then all mortals would suffer.

He traced pale cold fingers along the ornate design in the marble throne. The dead moaned and groaned somewhere in the distance, sensing the will of their God. The mists swirled and retracted around the orb that made it possible for him to watch the entirely of his kingdom, as well as the above world where mortal men perished daily.

The God of the Dead and the Underworld watched the world suffer without pleasure. It did not even ease the ache of his cold heart. There was no light in this realm like the above world provided. There was only the dead and... their God. He was lonely.

Always alone.

The orb sensed its master's sorrow, and sought to correct it by presenting images of the things Sweden enjoyed. The bright colors of the above world, the mortals that worshiped him and offered sacrifices to appease his wrath.

It shifted and swirled again.

He caught sight of her then. The woman that possessed a halo of golden locks. Even the color of her hair was rich and welcoming. She was listening to the prayers of the mortals for a larger harvest.

A female child stumbled over the prayer, and mangled the plea horribly. The golden goddess smiled widely. Even the image of her caused the wailing of the dead to pause for several seconds.

The god of the Dead tilted his head to the side in contemplation. She intrigued him. He watched as she created a ripe fruit, and allowed it to roll to the mortal child. It would bring the girl good luck and help her find a good life.

Something in his chest clenched when the goddess laughed.

Her laugh echoed through the orbs supported by the mists of the dead. Sweden stroked his chin thoughtfully, shifting in his seat.

Normally, he would pass by the above world gods and goddesses because it pained him to be locked away down here while they were permitted to bask in the glow of Denmark's Sun.

The God of the Dead watched the goddess as her mirth effected all those around her. The mortals were un aware that she was even present, but the people smiled brightly. However, it was her warm smile and nature that had him drawn to her like a moth to flame. She had lovely blue eyes, eyes he wished to see every day. How they shined brightly when she was happy. They were as bold as blue river stones. Yet, as clear as the crystals that grew in his realm.

A flash of longing grew in his chest.

For the first time since his wife had left him, Sweden felt... warmth.

He blinked and time passed. The day had passed, and the orb glowed with the sight of _her_ again. Sensing the will of its master.

She was in a field, gathering herbs and flowers with the nature spirits.

The little spring goddess, laughed at the antics of the surrounding nymphs that flocked toward her. However, she shone far brighter than any of the buxom beauties that danced about in the rivers and field.

His dark blue eyes watched her for a moment, which was long enough in the above world to span several days.

He watched her gather fruits and nuts for her mother. The mother would be problematic, however he was a fit husband for any daughter of the Goddess Canada. Yet, Canada was known to guard her daughter's virtue with equal tenacity as Sweden possessed guarding the dead from escaping from their eternal judgment.

Cold, pale fingers stroked the throne once more, watching the Spring demigoddess bathe in a river. His eyes took in how her robe became wet from the rivulets of water cascading down her smooth skin. He flickered his gaze to another orb, noting that the souls of the mortals he'd left upon the world as a sign of his displeasure were nearing the grove and stream where the woman was bathing.

With a flick of his hand, they were cast into the halls of the underworld to await their fates. If they were good men or not had yet to be established. He leaned forward, caressing the image of the goddess' face as she shivered slightly from the early morning chill.

As a God of the dead, he was not permitted to leave his kingdom. A third of all creation belonged to Sweden. He, Iceland, and Norway had all drawn lots after they had cast the titans into the deepest recesses of the Earth.

Sweden had, since that tiny speck of time, been the God of many. The God of the dead. He did not know the touch of the sun the way the mortals did. It did not caress his skin, and his kingdom was a misty, dark, and icy existence. A place between his world, theirs, and the next.

He sought to reach out, and try to feel the warmth of the goddess, even though they were realms apart.

Yet, as he caressed the image, the goddess appeared to sense him. Her blue eyes fluttered closed as he traced a finger down her cheek to her neck. When she shivered under the phantom touch, Sweden made his decision.

He would be willing to take the mortal souls back for judgment, and allow the living a chance at momentary peace.

In exchange for something far more precious to him.

It was Iceland who had conspired with Sweden to snatch the goddess from the land of her mother Canada. For Sweden had made it so that no mortal souls were accepted into the underworld until he was given what he wanted.

He wanted the little spring Goddess America.

For a wife.

Iceland had readily agreed, as the prayers of the humans grew louder and more desperate. As the dead plagued the innocent and tormented the guilty upon every land. Their wailing cries of despair shook the very heavens.

In response, Iceland had commanded the earth to grow the most beautiful of blossoms to tempt the little goddess to try and pick it. The petals were softer than any fine cloth and the bloom gave off a perfume so sweet that the world over rejoiced.

Iceland ordered it to grow on the edge of the field where America often walked. The flower caught her attention instantly.

So eager, the goddess had been, to possess the rare and enticing bloom, that she had not noticed the earth forking open. Nor the black chariot that was pulled by horses of bone and flame. Their muzzles were grizzly twisted masses of dead flesh that burned with dark fire.

The horses of the Underworld. Whose hooves stole life away from whatever they touched. As the powerful beasts surged forward onto the living Earth, grass and flowers wilted into death. Sweden's gaze was locked on the prize he wished to possess.

He pulled upon the reigns, forcing the beasts to stop in place. Their soulless eyes gleamed at nothing. Sweden stood in tall in his armor, emblazoned with his crest as he took a moment to drink in the sight of his bride.

Without making a sound, he stepped off the chariot and strode forward to the Spring Goddess who was prevented from reaching the beckoning bloom by large, thick thorns.

He laid his hands upon her, grabbing her firmly. He could feel the life that pulsed under her skin, unlike the dead that usually surrounded him. Sweden could also feel her warmth.

The woman stilled, looking at his with those sky blue eyes that were wide with alarm. Her lips parted, and her face flushed. One look into his eyes and at his armor told her who he was.

"Sweden?" She asked with a gasp, attempting to shy away from his touch. The flower long forgotten at the sight of his stoic face.

He said nothing as he pulled her closer. The goddess understood in an instant that she was in danger at the hands of the more powerful God.

"What are you doing?" She shrieked loudly, nearly deafening him with her impressive vocals. "Release me at once!"

He shook his head.

"Y'u're c'mming t' my h'me." He replied stoically, mindless of the way she attempted to beat at his back with her fists.

It would do nothing, he was Sweden, God of the underworld.

He'd captured America, daughter of the Goddess of the harvest, bearer of the summer fruit. The trim female wailed loudly, attempting to call for help of any who would listen. Her golden locks bounced wildly as he hefted her over his shoulder, and leapt back onto his chariot.

She screamed for her mother as he picked up the reigns in one hand and flicked them commanding the beasts to return home.

They reared back, letting out a ghoulish sound as they plunged forward. Dark flame danced around the chariot as they began to return to his realm.

"Mother!" America screamed. "Mother help! Mother!"

Yet, only the birds in the trees bore witness to tragedy of what was occurring before them. The Goddess cried to the wind, in the vain hope it would tell Canada of America's capture at the hands of the god of the Dead.

Sweden was pleased with his bride. She fought, as any good woman of virtue would, and tried at every opportunity to free herself.

He would not make the same mistake with this one as he had with his last wife.

OoOoOo

The moment he set her on her feet, the air in the Underworld changed slightly. The darkness grew lesser, and the air was warmer. Sweden knew this is what Denmark's sun must have felt like to the mortals. How marvelous. How wondrous.

The blonde Goddess stepped away from his quickly, her face contorted in fear and determination.

"Release me! My mother will come for me." She said angrily.

The corners of his mouth turned up in the barest hints of a smile as he neared her. The Goddess could not run from him here. There was not place in the Underworld where he would not find her. She took steps backward as he advanced, until her body met with the side of his throne.

She seemed perfect there. He would have a matching throne crafted just for her, so she could sit at his side for all eternity.

Sweden caressed her cheek though the Goddess flinched and pulled away.

"T's Str'nge," he murmured as he watched her lovely face, feeling the life that pulsed under her skin.

"You must release me," America demanded looking away as she tried to create distance between them. There was none to be found. "My Father-"

"Y'ur F'ther h's giv'n m' p'rmiss'on t' m'rry y'u." He interrupted, nearly gently as her eyes widened upon him.

"What?" She asked clearly startled. "But how could he? Why would he? We have never even seen each other before today!" The goddess argued.

Sweden shook his head with an indulgent look in his eyes.

"W'tched y'u." The God told her as his face drew closer.

"Watched me?" America repeated stiffly, "but how?"

"Th're." Sweden replied pointing a finger toward the orb that swirled in the mists. America stilled and looked at the glowing ball with apprehension.

Her blue eyes flicked to his hesitantly, and she moved away from him slowly. Sweden's eyes trailed her figure as the mist gently parted around her lithe form. America turned back to gaze at him, her long golden locks swayed.

Sweden knew he would never feel lonely with her eyes on him. They were not clouded with anger, but colored gently with stark curiosity at the moment.

America walked toward the orb that glowed in the remaining wisps of the Underworld mist. Sweden commanded the orb to follow America's will for one glance at whatever she wished.

The Goddess gasped as the orb shimmered. He walked up behind her silently, wishing to be near the spring goddess. He inhale the subtle scent of flowers and early fruits that emanated from her skin.

The image of her mother Canada, sprang up in the crystalline depths. America watched the orb glow and pulse.

"America! America where are you?!" Her mother called. She could see that Canada was walking tall mountains and into steep rocky crags looking for her. The images changed, but her mother was always searching for her.

America reached out for the orb, trying to touch it. "Mother! Mother! I am here!"

"America!" Canada called again, "America where are you?!"

"Mother!" The Goddess cried bitterly. Her fingers grasped nothing as the orb dissolved at her touch. For she was not of the Underworld.

America buried her face in her hands and wept openly.

Sweden watched her with growing concern. He should not have allowed her to see her mother wandering the globe in search of her missing daughter. The god of the underworld gently stroked the sides of her arms, whispering words of care in her ears.

The Spring Goddess tried to shrug off his touch.

OoOoOo

However, the longer America spent in the Underworld, the happier Sweden was. Her brightness chased away the lingering vestiges of the gloom. His realm was beautiful in its own rights. Marble pillars gleamed with the dark fire, but it was her glow that warmed him.

Chased away the cold.

The God of the Dead wanted to do something for her. Wanted to give her what he could, and he wished to start by securing her place as his new wife.

She had been without food or water for days.

Sweden approached her, as she sat by the river Styx, watching all the new mortals he'd collected from the above world, with a platter and bowl in hand.

He spread some berries from the bowl onto the platter and set it before her. The berries glistened a deep blood red in the flickering dark fire.

"What is this?" America asked with curious eyes.

"E't." He commanded sternly, his eyes roaming over her brightness covetously. He desired her to remain with him for all time. In order for that to be possible, he would require her to eat some of the food of his realm. He, who was the keeper of many, made an offering of lingonberries to tempt the goddess into eating.

For if she ate even one bite of the underworld food, she would never be permitted to leave. Iceland had sworn it this time, and the word of the Head God of the Pantheon was law unto all creation. And none could revoke such a law.

Sweden gazed upon her with amusement in his eyes. America was a fine bride.

She blinked, and looked down at the platter, as she licked her lips. Sweden watched the motion with darkened eyes.

America was growing less and less afraid. Though it was not of the God she was the most wary anymore, but the realm which he ruled. This was the underworld, where no mortal light could shine. Only the dead wandered the never ending chamber at the heart of the earth. And, only the worthy could enter the fields of paradise. The damned and wicked were sent to a place where even titans feared to dwell. The spirits walked in darkness all around. There was only the glow of dark fire in his kingdom. She had never known such things, only the bright beauty of the sun.

She shuddered.

" 're y'u c'ld?" He asked in silken tones that had her glancing at him warily. She flushed slightly, trying not to let her guard down too quickly around the God of the Dead. Yet, she was rather hungry.

"E't. 'T w'll h'lp." He coaxed as his eyes bored into hers deeply.

America's hand moved toward the berries, nearly unable to refuse the commanding note in his voice. The Goddess also had no wish to offend him. He had been... kind to her even though he had kidnapped her against her will.

She gently picked a blood-red berry up and pressed it to her lips. As soon as she bit into the tender flesh, she knew it was a mistake, but the deliciousness of the fruit soothed the pangs of hunger she felt. It compelled her to eat more.

Sweden watched with hooded eyes as she began to devour the seemingly harmless fruit that would keep her chained to his side.

This wife, his new wife, would never be permitted to leave him. The warmth he felt around her, and the way his heart clenched at the few timid smiles she gave him, made him even more inclined to keep her by his side. He watched her finish her meal with satisfaction.

He reached for her, but America scooted away.

OoOoOo

Weeks had passed in this manner. Sweden continued to gently court his bride. To woo her to be pleased with his realm and therefore with him.

He had all eternity to change her thoughts of him. Even if they were not where he'd like them to be.

Yet, she started to cast small true smiles his way with a slight blush staining her cheeks, and had even allowed him to spend more time in her company as he sorted out where the mortal souls belonged based upon their deeds.

She was beginning to laugh again. When he made comments she found amusing, or when the spirits of the more worthy mortals told her their tales of adventure.

The sound of her laughter echoing through the caverns of the Underworld filled him with a sense of peace and pride. He longed for her to accept him. He wished to take her in his arms and make her a wife and not simply a bride.

However, he was content to bide his time.

"Why won't you release me?" She asked gently, when he had not expected it, her golden hue brightening up the darkness around them. It would have hurt his eyes, were he a mortal and not a God.

His stoic face revealed nothing.

"N'ed y'o." He replied simply, leaving no room for argument.

The Spring Goddess blushed at his proclamation.

"You need me?" She asked with wide eyes..

Sweden smiled softly, his hand rose to cup her cheek.

"L've y'u." The God of the Underworld proclaimed, and the very fires seemed to rise with his words.

America bit her lip. Her sky blue eyes wandered to his darker ones. She looked at him uncertainly.

Sweden leaned in and kissed her, his little wife, with a passion he had not shown to anyone outside of the Finnish Demigod.

She was softer, and yielded to his touch. Sweden was nearly overcome with joy. He pulled her closer and his heart warmed even more, when she did not push him away.


	2. Chapter 2

_**YAY! Reviews! :)**_

_**I own nothing. Rated M **_

OoOoOo

Canada was not a Goddess to be trifled with.

A fact the pantheon of the Gods would learn all too quickly, and too well.

In her grief, she held the world hostage as she sought her lost daughter. Everything that grew from the soil was nearly suspended in time. Fruits would not ripen, blossoms did not appear. The animals did not graze and grow fat for the impending winter.

The world was stilled in a singular moment in time. The time, that unbeknownst to the humans, the Spring Goddess America was abducted.

The mortals grew worried. They offered more sacrifices and offerings. Whispers and prayers grew in temples or at alters until it was a constant rumble to appease the Goddess Canada.

Time crept by slowly, and at the same time not at all, for the Goddess that searched every inch of the earth for her beloved daughter. A daughter that had not been found nor seen in several months.

OoOoOo

Immortals loved fiercely, however, often their love was weakened by time.

This was not true of Sweden, the God of Many and his Spring Goddess. The passion and romance that flared between them was enough to make even the mighty Goddess of love, France, green with envy. Though his heart still recalled the affection it held for the Finnish Demi-God, the sorrow and pain of their parting had been all but forgotten.

The soft blush on America's face and the way that the underworld felt alive around her was something Sweden could never do without again.

A single kiss shared by the river Styx, soon became kisses freely exchanged. Until at last, his beloved bride edged into his bedchamber of her own free will. In search of him.

The warmth of her lips pressed against his as they embraced sent fissures of pleasure and happiness through him. HIs little wife was no longer resisting his presence. His hand trailed her shoulder, gently pushing the bunching of cloth for her tunic to the side. The God of the Dead waited, testing to see just how far America would allow him to continue.

She pulled back, her cheeks flushed with emotion. Her light blue eyes, a perfect replica of the color of the Sky over Mount Olympus, glittered at him like the crystals of the underworld. His love for her, and deep seated need for her touch reared once more. His impassive face drew closer as America sat before him unmoving.

The God could almost tangibly feel the excitement and fear of an untouched, and virtuous, woman upon her. Yet, she did not flinch away, nor look down demurely. The blush on her features was attractive as she looked at him, silently giving him permission to continue. Sweden needed no further invitation. He pressed a kiss on the exposed skin on the nape of her neck. Marveling at the sudden intake of breath she gave. It was star-crossed between a moan and a gasp.

The fires of the underworld leapt higher, dancing flames of cold intensity that caused the cavers to sparkle like diamonds. It was contrasted by the searing warmth of the goddess in his grasp, and under his lips.

OoOoOo

"Denmark!" Canada called, her blonde hair swayed in the harsh winter wind. Ice formed on the ends of the strands, but she did not pay any heed to it. Darkened clouds, laden with more snow and endless cold loomed overhead. Even Denmark was forced to appear himself to part them.

The sun sparked, a large ball of flame in the sky led by a chariot with golden horses. Where she not a Goddess, she would have been blinded instantly.

"You have called for me?" Denmark answered, standing tall and proud before the bereaved Goddess.

The mother wept pitifully.

"Denmark, tell me, pray tell me, who has taken my child?" Canada cried out in anguish. "None shall tell me! None provide me with assistance!"

"I shall tell you all I know, Canada." The Sun God replied soothingly, a large smile upon his face. " Be as at ease, America is well and unharmed. Your daughter has been given to Sweden, to be his wife."

"No!" Canada denied, the air dipping even more to the chill. The earth responded to the denial harshly, freezing miles in solid and unforgiving ice. Mortals perished due to her anguish and fury.

"Canada," Denmark reasoned, "Iceland has given America to a powerful God. A King as well. Sweden is a fine match for your daughter. He will make a good husband. America will be a Queen over the underworld for all eternity."

His careful words were not chosen well enough. For they did not placate the grieving Mother one iota. The Goddess of the harvest refused to hear him. She wept loudly at the obvious betrayal of her and her child by the head of the Pantheon.

Anger and vengeance burned deep within her bosom. Canada could hear the sorrowful shout of anguish she released, nearly felling the cliff upon which she stood. The trees that had escaped the biting cold withered and became brittle.

The Goddess of the Harvest would not have her child stolen and forcibly given in marriage to the God of the Underworld. It was horrible! Unthinkable!

If Iceland sought to take her daughter, and give her like a spoil of war to a brute such as Sweden, then Canada would make Iceland suffer. To make Iceland suffer, she would continue to subject the mortals to her icy displeasure.

No food would grow. No animals would graze and grow fat. No warmth would be upon the lad. Canada swore it, until her daughter was back in her arms.

It would kill many, her worshippers included. However, she had to be strong as a mother. She would end all mankind to hurt Iceland if she had to.

It was the only way that would get her daughter back to the safety of the above world.

OoOoOo

Teasing kisses, and coy looks. Time held little meaning to their kind, and the God of the Dead was grateful for this fact. It meant more time, years without number, with the Spring Goddess. They would never grow old nor infirm. She would never be lost to sickness.

There was only loving gestures and heated kisses on their marriage bed. His little wife gives him both and more when she sits by his side. The Underworld is a placed warmed now more so than it has ever been. It is still a dark world of wisps, smoke, and chill. However, she brightens the caverns and the goodly souls of the mortals rejoice.

However, Sweden the God of the Undead has noticed the increase in souls, though his sweet second wife has not. To her it would easily be mistaken as the result of a pestilence or plague. Perhaps a war.

Yet, he can hear the wailing cries of the dead and those that knock on the doors of the afterlife, preparing for entrance. Canada's wrath was unceasing in its fury. However, the mortals would forever need care over their souls and therefore his Kingdom would continue into eternity with America at his side.

She had taken to playing mother to the children that had died before their time. She danced with them in the fields where only those worthy of paradise dwelt. The God of the Dead was highly pleased with his second wife and the passion she showed him when the unblinking eyes of the mortals could not see them.

America was a goddess given toward words, and the constant expressions of her love where music to his ears. They drowned out the loneliness and the wails of the dead with ease. Her lingering touches as she passed by on her way to walk the fields had Sweden losing some concentration as he listened and judged the sins of the mortals that came to stand before him.

He nearly sent a child to tartars, having not paid attention until his little wife lifted the child in golden arms and gave the boy a kiss on the forehead.

"I shall take him, my King," America said with a mischievous smile on her lips. Her curls swayed as she looked upon the mortal soul. "Shall we go play in the fields young one?"

Sweden mutely nodded his approval, shaking away the lustful thoughts and admonishing himself for carelessness. He was the guardian for the dead, and the one that meted out justice on behalf of the victims that had found none in life. His stoic face did not change as he waved forward the next soul. However, his eyes did catch America's as she blushed while gazing upon him.

A heated exchange occurred without the need for words nor gestures. It was impressed upon Sweden that America was able to understand him in even ways his first wife had not.

The barest hints of a smile curled his lips. So minute that they would have been missed by most.

Yet, it was clear to the immortals and mortals alike in the underworld; that the Goddess of the Spring and The God of the Dead were a love match.

OoOoOo

It was the argument of all time between the God of the Pantheon and the Goddess of the Harvest. The heavens had never trembled as they did before the fury of an enraged mother. Even the thunderbolts that Iceland commanded would not interfere with the Goddess that snarled with righteous fury.

"Return our daughter to me!" Canada shouted.

Iceland grew increasingly angry under her demands. How dare she speak to him so? He was the God of the Gods!

"Never! She has been given to Sweden!" He said with finality.

The golden Goddess twisted her features, her normal beauty became a haggard mask of an old woman. Her eyes flashed.

"No, she has been stolen. Tricked! Deceived! By the very god that she would call father!" The woman clamored with a warble in her tone, holding back tears of despair.

The clouds cracked with energy at the bidding of their master.

"Silence woman! Know your place!" Iceland thundered.

"My place? YOU take our child and give her away like a sack of wheat or grain; and _dare_ to find fault?" Canada returned clearly outraged.

"Canada," Iceland warned as the lightening in the sky and heavens crackled around him angrily.

"No! I shall not hear any more of your treachery. Return our daughter at _once_."

Iceland sighed heavily, exasperation was clear on his face. His eyes narrowed at the woman who had born him America. It was not as if he had given their daughter to a peasant! She was a Queen now, happily married.

"I cannot. I have given my word." He informed her.

It was final, and jarring. Canada drew in a breath, understanding that Iceland could not break his solemn vow.

"Then I shall suffer the Earth to despair, as I have despaired." She promised vehemently.

Iceland's eyes widened fractionally.

"You cannot continue to-"

"Oh I _shall_," the heartbroken mother promised. "Until America is back upon the mortal realm, every mortal shall be punished. For the word you so freely gave, and in doing so robbed me of a child!"

The Goddess of the Harvest and the Head of the Pantheon glared at each other.

As she had promised, the mortals did indeed suffer.

OoOoOo

It was akin to a blatant slap in Iceland's face. Canada's defiance would be etched into history.

The crops had withered. Long after the flowers in full bloom shriveled like scrolls set before a large flame. Even the trees became barren and many snapped in half under the fierce gales of icy storm winds.

Not a single thing grew or thrived. Not anymore.

The earth had become a barren frozen waste land. The mortals shivered and quaked, unable to keep warm no matter how high they tried to build fires. The cruel winds whipped away any lingering warmth that the Sun of Denmark might have provided. Their pleas soon shook the clouded and darkened heavens.

The Gods began to pity the mortals, and fear what was to come. The immortals took to the heavens, hoping to sway Iceland, since Canada could not be reasoned with. Several still bore marks from trying. Her ire was a force that even Iceland conceded was mighty.

Even the tumultuous God of the Sea grew worried as the people starved, and froze. The earth gave nothing. The mortals could offer them nothing. Soon most, if not all, of the mortals would perish under the unforgiving conditions.

And, then, so too would the Gods.

All except for Sweden, and his bride. The dead kingdom would forever be needed. Even were everything to die, it would be Sweden that kept the souls at peace or in their eternal deserved tortures.

The Gods expressed their concerns to Iceland, who knew them well enough already. For even the head of the Pantheon had become worried over Canada's stubbornness. However, he had given his word to Sweden that America would remain with him.

Therefore, he was bound, and unable to interfere lest he undo himself or earn the wrath of the God of the Dead once more.

The head of the Pantheon looked down upon the mortal world with great dismay. Even his might, could do nothing to save them now.

OoOoOo

Fate had not planned for the death of the Gods. At least, not yet. For it was fate the turned the head of the Spring Goddess as she stood resolute by her husband's side.

It was the child she recognized.

America's lips parted in dismay and sadness at the sight of the soul of the girl she'd given a ripened fruit to while a family prayed for a good harvest.

It could not be, though, for she'd blessed the child with good fortune and greater protection against disease. America hurried over, her golden locks bounced with each step. Sweden watched her with an impassive face as she abruptly left during the middle of him deciding the fate of a mortal soul. He held up a hand and stopped the mortal's trial.

His dark gaze followed America's every step.

Sweden was no fool. He had expected that Canada would grow angry, but the vast amount of mortals nearly spilling all throughout his hall told him a grave story. Canada had not yet ceased her ire upon the world.

It was unfortunate, but it did not concern Sweden. America was to stay with him forever. She had eaten the food of the Underworld, and he would not lose a second wife.

Yet, her pretty sky blue eyes flash to his and he feel s a pang of regret that she cares so.

Her golden hand touched the little girl, whose dead eyes turned toward the Goddess with recognition upon her face. The child bowed to the Queen Goddess. America stifled a gasp of outrage. This young girl had been blessed!

What had happened?

With her touch, America saw the girl's life flash before her eyes. Days spent in play, and work. The sewing of fields, and the harvest.

The harvest. A pang of longing flash through her breast at the recollection of her mother's temple.

Then came the sicknesses, but they should not have touched the child. The child had been spared, forced to watch as her family died all around her. The famine, where the girl saw her mother push a few crumbs out of her bowl to feed the child.

The bitter cold and the raiders that had followed soon after. Oh Merciful Iceland! How could such a travesty have occurred?

The biting winds, and unending ice. The world frozen and slowly dying as the winds carried the cry for -

"Oh mother!" America said sadly, her tears sliding off her face and dropping to the cold caver floor. Where her tears touched, mortal flowers bloomed instantly only to die as quickly for no mortal thing could exist in the world between worlds.

With a heavy heart and a keen sense of understanding, the Goddess knew she would need to plead with her husband to return to the above realm. The mortals could not exist in this manner, and it was up to America to be their champion in this dark time. When offerings, both burnt and live, had failed to sway her mother.

She had to return to the surface and warm the icy fury that enveloped the innocent Earth.

There was, she knew, no other way to convince her mother than in person. She would have to seek Sweden's permission to go back to the above world.

America strode down the dark and dreary halls with nary a thought except swaying Sweden toward her cause. The golden Goddess held her head high and her hair swayed with each step. She had been gifted robes from underworld cloth that had been stitched with some threads of fate and gold. The blackness of the cloth was a sharp contrast to her sun-kissed skin.

The Spring Goddess warmed the hall with her presence alone. The intense gaze of her husband was upon her in an instant. America smiled as she saw him, as she often did when in his presence since he had won her with his rather gentle ways.

Something carnal flashed behind his otherwise passive eyes. They had frightened her in the beginning, for they saw all the deeds of the mortals during their lives. America had held the strangest sensation that he almost looked _through_ her, but now she was wiser.

The God of the Dead watched her with interest and affection. Something she was highly pleased by.

Taking the initiative, with the lives of the mortals at stake, America beckoned her King to her with a look of intent and desire about her features. Sweden's gaze stayed on her, but there was the barest hints of a smile about his eyes.

He raised a hand, and with the silent gesture the souls of the mortals awaiting judgment dispersed. They would wait in limbo until he was ready to hear their tales once more. His armor glittered in the dark fire, that cast a mysterious glow about the carvers of the underworld.

Sweden stood, watching America as she smiled at him. It was a gentle smile of adoration.

"W'fe." He said with a low voice that reverberated off the black marble pillars.

The Spring Goddess shivered at the title and the blatant reciprocated desire in his tone.

"Husband." She said simply.

It was as if an entire conversation had taken place in the two words. Suddenly, Sweden strode forward and captured America in a heated embrace. The fires of the underworld leapt with a good imitation of a cheery crackle; a sound easily made by the above world fires. The crystals that lit the path to the main hall glowed even brighter.

Clothes were hastily removed, and searing kisses became more forceful.

OoOoOo

"I must visit my mother." His little wife said in perfect seriousness, as the sweat cooled upon their bodies. Their lovemaking had ended in pleasure and the pair of them wrapped in each other's arms. America's head was nestled on his chest.

Sweden stilled and said nothing. However, she could sense his disapproval. His arms tightened around her momentarily.

"Husband," America pleaded. "Hear my words, you must allow me to go to the surface."

His fury was reflected throughout his domain in an instant. The Fires grew to imposing heights, the dead moaned and cringed even in paradise. The chill and cold grew nearly numbing even to the immortals.

"No." The God of the Dead said evenly. He slowly disengaged from America, as she bit her lower lip in contemplation.

"The mortals are dying, at an alarming rate." She reasoned kindly. "They cannot all die, or the other Gods shall meet with -"

"Wh't c're h've I f'r oth'r G'ds?" He replied coolly, his face was an impassive mask.

Her blue eyes shone brightly with hurt.

"Do I not matter then?" America asked softly. "Does not my mother matter? Nor my Father?"

Sweden stared at her stonily, before grasping his clothes off the marble floor. His little wife's presence warmed the hall and he still marveled at the strange wonderfulness of her.

She could see the way his body tensed that her King had not meant it is such a manner. America pulled her tunic to her. Her disheveled hair cascaded in waves down her back. The perfect ringlets were mussed by Sweden's earlier ministrations.

"Please. I must do this," America tried again. She stood and neared him. Desperation tingeing her words. "Do not judge me for the sins of another."

Sweden's face shuttered closed of all emotion. They never spoke of his previous wife before. It was considered an unspoken taboo. She risked his wrath at even mentioning his former Finnish wife. Sweden's eyes could have slain countless mortal lives.

America stood resolute before him. Her sky blue eyes and golden hue seemed momentarily out of place in his realm. Anger and worry festered in his mind. Sweden by rights and promise did not have to surrender her to the above world at all.

Yet, the glint of determination in her gaze and the warm manner in which she treated him had him reconsidering his staunch denial.

"I do not seek to flee." His Queen said sweetly. He could see the sincerity in her face.

He stilled. The God of the Dead felt the weight of her words on his very heart. He looked at her, truly watched the way America pleaded with him. He knew well enough that the others were in jeopardy. Her mother included. He loved his little Queen. Yet, how could she continue to feel fondly for him if he willfully allowed her Mother and all the other Gods to perish?

Sweden grit his teeth in agitation. He would have to allow her to return to the mortal realm. However, he would not blindly permit her to take the excuse and leave his side for forever.

"Swe'r." He commanded forcefully.

"I swear, my love." America said honestly, her blue eyes locking with his. "I will return to you."

He nodded silently, still loathe to permit her back to the mortal realm.

"Have faith in me," she said gently.

Sweden could only crush her to him for a kiss that would have to stand for all the things he could not bring himself to say.

OoOoOo

America set foot out upon a world she did not recognize. White clung to every inch. In the presence of the spring goddess, it began to melt around her. The ice dripped, and the storm winds ceased.

The carcasses of animals and men, frozen in horror and fear were littered across the barren landscape.

The Spring Goddess wasted no time in rushing, in her clothing spun from the looms of the underworld, toward the place where no mortal dare to trod. The temple of her mother, the Goddess of the Harvest, whose fury was something America had never before seen.

She found Canada standing, yelling, in rage and weeping all at one toward her father Iceland's throne above Mount Olympus.

"Mother?" America said softly, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.

She had never known that Canada could be capable of such mass destruction. Every plant was dead. It offered up no help for the mortals. America felt tears prickle in the corner of her eyes. The crystalline droplets splashed upon the frozen earth, causing it to revive.

"Mother!" America tried again. "What is this? What have you done?"

"America?" Canada paused, her violet eyes dimming down from their bright rage and the winter was as if it had never been. The frozen wasteland was gone. With Canada's delight and appeasement, the world was whisked out of its icy torment. In its place stood lush and rolling hills, fruitful crops, and erect trees filled to bursting with leaves. All manner of nuts, berries, and vegetation was yielded as Canada rushed forward and took her daughter in her arms.

Denmark's path across the sky brought warmth this day, as Canada no longer barred his Sun.

America was caught up in her mother's embrace. The haggard appearance of the Goddess Canada disappeared in the blink of an eye. Her mother looked as she always had remembered her, smiling and demure. A radiance of contentment that shone brightly.

Blindingly beautiful. The pair of them caused the world over to rejoice.

"It is you. Oh my daughter," Canada sighed happily, taking a step back to gaze upon her beloved child. "You are safe now. Fear not, my child. I shall not permit Sweden to take you again."

America was appalled at the very idea. To leave her husband? She would never. For she had come to love the stoic God of the Dead, and his intense ways.

"Mother, you must understand," The spring goddess said firmly. "I am wife to Sweden. In name and in truth."

"No!" Canada gasped. Her violet eyes were wide with horror. "America, you could not have-"

America ducked her head, an unearthly blush upon her beautiful features. "I am a wife now, mother." She said softly.

"That fiend!" The goddess of the Harvest shouted angrily. "Vile beast! To force my daughter so!"

The younger goddess shook her head quickly. "Cease mother, I beg of you. I was not forced. I gave myself willingly to my marriage bed."

"No. No. No!" Canada said miserably. "This cannot be!"

"But it _is."_ The spring Goddess insisted. "I have loved my time in this realm, but I must return-"

"You must tell me, and speak the truth. Did Sweden give you anything to eat?" The mother interrupted with a deep look of concern.

The blue eyes, clearer than any patch of sky blinked at Canada owlishly. "Yes. Just some berries."

"Oh," Canada moaned sadly, "you have been tricked! America, you cannot truly leave the underworld. Not for even a whole year. How much did you eat?"

"I..I lost count, but please, be merciful and see reason. I love the God of the Dead. " America replied honestly.

"Love? What know you of love, child?" Canada scoffed and wept at the same time. her precious girl would be gone forever to the underworld.

"I know that I now need more than the comfort a mother can provide." America reproved gently, but was still mindful of the feelings of her mother.

Canada's violet gaze clashed with the Azure eyes of America.

"Mother, I see now that it was time for me to marry and I do love Sweden. You must accept this, please."

"Must I?"

"The mortals you punish have caused you no harm, nor strife. What you do, dearest mother, is wrong." The Spring Goddess pleaded and rebuked in equal measure.

"Daughter, my dearest and only child..." Canada wept bitterly.

"Do not shed tears," America said, embracing her mother once more. "I am well married and loved. Is this not what you wanted for me?"

"Yes," The Goddess of the Harvest agreed readily. "But not so soon."

"I am old enough mother, and well pleased."

Canada scoffed. "That I doubt very much.

"Mother." America interjected angrily.

"Fine. Speak with me for a while."

"I must return..."

"You are immortal. You have the time to spare child."

America nodded looking back toward where she had come from. In her heart, she hated to keep Sweden waiting. Yet, she had to convince her mother of her happiness to keep her from destroying the world.

There were times she wished dearly that she had a younger sibling that her mother might cleave to instead. However, Iceland had gifted Canada with only one child.

"Come then, my married daughter." Canada said with an outstretched hand. Clearly the argument between them was far from over. America nodded and grasped her mother's hand as they walked down the lush greenery of the warmed earth.

The animals frolicked in relief, and the humans that remained quickly went to find offerings to place before the nearest temples. Then they would fill their starving bellies.

America thought only of her husband, who waited for her in a cold and dark realm.

OoOoOo

The God of the Dead waited. The cold was beyond the scope any mortal could ever understand. The dimness and darkness of his realm weighed upon him heavily. He judged the mortals that still flooded his halls, nearly filling up every inch of the dark marbled floor.

It had been three days, in the mortal realm, and his wife had not yet returned.

The dead wailed and moaned, sensing the distress of their God. The courtly souls that had been appointed to his wife as her ladies in waiting stood mutely behind America's empty throne.

Silence surrounded him in between judgments. His little wife had sworn to him. The God of the Dead had faith in his America. His eternal love was not the sort that died easily, as it did for others. Even Denmark who had once loved an unfortunate nymph, had all but forgotten his love except for the wreath of laurel leaves he wore.

Sweden would not forget so easily. Nor would he forgive the Gods for taking a second wife away from him. If they had thought his anger before was upsetting, then they would have to prepare for-

He was so caught up in his brooding, that he failed to notice the dead had ceased wailing. However, The God of Many noticed the large doors to his hall opened by way of his servants. Sweden drew in a deep breath to counter the anticipatory silence all around him.

Then, as if the sun of Denmark had entered the hall, there was light and warmth.

Sweden stood, slowly rising to his imposing height. He concealed the fact that his fingers trembled slightly.

The mortal souls parted and tipped their heads in respect.

His Queen had returned. Sweden had been unable to bring himself to watch her through the orb which waited harmlessly near his throne.

The God of the Dead had not been able to bear the thought of America forsaking him. If such a thing were to have occurred. He had told himself that she would come back. For she had sworn to him.

And now he knew that his Spring Goddess truly was different from the Finnish Demi-God. His little Queen loved him enough to come back.

There were no words to accurately describe the God of the Dead's joy at the staggering revelation.

"Husband," America said happily with a smile that made his chest tighten in pleasure, "I have returned."

She gave a slight laugh and suddenly she was running toward him. The golden glow around her even brighter. So bright, that had he been mortal, it would have blinded him. He opened his arms, and waited for her to throw herself into them.

"W'fe." Sweden acknowledged, as he caught her up in his embrace.


End file.
